For Your Butterfly Heart
by BurningNightingale
Summary: Sakura keeps her distance when she knows Arthur doesn't need her; but she'll find him in an instant if he does. Sakura is nothing like any girl Arthur has ever known; but she's the only one worth coming home to. Or, for that matter, travelling halfway round the world to see.


**A/N: Written for the APH Kinkmeme (yes, yet again XD). Inspired by the song 'Sleeps With Butterflies' by Tori Amos. Enjoy!**

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_For Your Butterfly Heart_

Sakura had seen him the first time in the library, alone, bent over a notebook with a stack of textbooks on the table beside him. It was like one of those moments when couples meet in fairytales; the last rays of the autumn sun were slanting through the tall windows overhead, gilding his skin with a golden hue and setting fire to his scruffy blonde hair. She met his glittering emerald eyes over the table and was instantly reminded of the green grass of the park she had played in as a child, half a world away now. He stared back at her for a moment before she dropped her eyes, embarrassed.

They hadn't spoken, she didn't know his name; yet her thoughts for the next few days revolved around him.

They met again in a coffee house near the University. Sakura didn't like coffee all that much, but her best friend Amelia was hooked on the stuff. While the young American girl stood at the counter to place her order, Sakura found them a table in the crowded shop.

And there he was once again. He was reading a novel this time. She unobtrusively craned her neck a little to read the title of his book. It was _Wuthering Heights_; Sakura mused on that a little. She didn't know many men who enjoyed nineteenth-century romances.

He looked up suddenly and straight into her eyes. Captured, she didn't turn her gaze quickly as she usually would have; they stared at each other in silence for a few moments, him with confusion, and her with growing mortification. "Sorry," he murmured after a moment; but he didn't look away. "I…I think I saw you in the library, once. Do you go to the University?"

It took Sakura a second to find her voice. "Yes," she replied, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "I'm studying Computer Sciences."

He nodded. "English Literature." He held up the book, and she nodded in understanding. "I'm Arthur, by the way. Arthur Kirkland."

"Sakura Honda. I am, I mean." She felt herself blush a little.

"Nice to meet you," Arthur returned with a smile.

She opened her mouth to reply, but then Amelia sat down opposite her, dumping her green tea on the table and launching instantaneously into a tirade about some guy who'd blown her off the other day. Sakura had chance to glance surreptitiously in Arthur's direction after a few moments to find him smiling at her knowingly. She checked Amelia was fully engrossed in the sound of her own voice and mouthed; 'Nice to meet you, too'.

She found out more about him from Gilbert, who seemed to know everything about everybody. "Quiet dude," the German mused as he effortlessly sketched the design of a building in his CAD software. "Over from England. Seen him at a few parties; he gets kinda wild when he's drunk. And the whole 'sensitive writer' thing draws in quite a few of the ladies, I hear. Oh, and he doesn't get along with Francis. They have some kind of rivalry thing going on."

Sakura thanked him and left him in the engineering department, and went to her own room. In just two weeks the University term would be over, and she would be flying back to Japan to spend the summer break at home. Her parents had died when she was small, so she would be sharing a flat with her elder sister, Chun-Yan. She supposed she should call and arrange the details of her flight home, but right now it was late, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

And dream about Arthur Kirkland, but she didn't want to admit that to herself.

Two weeks flashed by with barely a sight of him until the penultimate day of term, when they found themselves sharing a bench on the University grounds. He asked her what she was doing over summer, and she talked about going back to Japan, missing the friends she had made here, and dealing with her overbearing sister, who was luckily occupied most of the time with her strenuous job owning a restaurant.

Arthur laughed slightly, and leant back in on the bench, stretching. The sunlight caught his golden hair just like before, and Sakura sternly reminded herself that it was rude to stare. "I know what that's like," he said, looking up at the sky. "Honestly, I'm slightly dreading going home. My parents died, too, and my siblings are kind of a pain to be around." He sighed, long and heavy. "I feel so alone when I'm at home."

Sakura thought about how she would be spending most of her summer alone, too. Locked in her room, probably, creating programs or chatting to online friends, or skyping her friends from University. She thought of the awkward conversations she was sure to be treated to from her older sister, and the outings Chun-Yan would invariably drag her on, everything underlain with feelings of bitterness and resentment and the memory of countless snapping, caustic arguments.

Without even thinking about it, she said, "Come home with me."

She never expected him to agree. They didn't even know each other.

But he did; he cancelled his flight to London and used the credit they gave him to book a seat on her flight to Tokyo. They got a taxi together to the airport, and he opened the window and leaned out to breathe in the fresh summer air. When he turned back to look at her he laughed suddenly. "I feel a bit giddy," he admitted, "I've never done something this impulsive before!"

Sakura shook her head. She'd never done anything like this, either.

Chun-Yan was extremely taken aback to find Arthur on her doorstep along with her younger sister, but she hid it behind a mask of polite welcome. "It is my pleasure to welcome Sakura's guests into our home," was all she said in response to Arthur's apology about not warning her he was coming.

They had a spare bedroom which Sakura made up for him. Chun-Yan left early for work each morning and returned late at night, so they had the house to themselves for the most part. They spent their days getting to know each other; Sakura took Arthur to all her favourite places, showed him both the tourist attractions and the places only known to locals, and they whiled away hours in parks and streets and shops and bars, just talking, laughing, debating; just being.

The long, hot summer days were the most content Sakura had ever known. Before, the life she associated with Japan was stiff and unyielding; closeted, restricted, boring. Everything was immovable as rock and set in age-old stone. But here and now, Arthur was like a raging river come to sweep all that away in one stroke, as the rushing fury of the ocean obliterates everything in its path. Everything around her was changing with the addition of only one small factor, and it took her breath away.

They spent some evenings in packed clubs, dancing to the beat and flowing with the mass of sweating bodies around them. Arthur seemed so casual in these spaces that Sakura let her hair down more than she usually would; and on their last evening, she suggested celebrating in style at one of the most famous clubs in town. The space was huge, the music was loud, and though she usually kept a strict policy of only a few drinks, halfway through the night Sakura found that her vision was swimming a little bit and she didn't feel quite in control. It would have been scary and unsettling for her, she who was so used to being perfectly poised, if not for Arthur's steadying arm around her waist.

They danced until midnight, until Arthur leant in and whispered in her ear, "I think it's time I took you home, Cinderella."

She only vaguely remembered the details of the fairytale as they caught a taxi; as his hand rested on her hip and she pulled him in close because yes, she'd wanted this since she first saw him; as his hand tangled in her short hair as he kissed her on the stairs of her apartment building; as he kissed her neck and her shoulders and everywhere and she didn't care if Chun-Yan could hear them in the room next door.

He packed in silence the next day, after they woke tangled together in her warm sheets, and she felt like the old silence was closing in on her again.

They got a taxi together to the airport, and he took her hand gently and traced a long, slow pattern onto it. "This was the most surreal three weeks I've ever had," he murmured quietly as they stood together in the Departures Hall, after he'd lined up to collect his boarding pass.

"Is that a good thing?" she asked him, her voice a soft whisper.

He looked up into her eyes. "It was a good thing," his voice was just as soft. "It will always have been a good thing."

She waited in the car park for three hours, until the plane she guessed was his soared over. She gazed up at it, shielding her eyes from the glare off the tarmac runways; up at the plane that was taking him home. She wondered if what he said was true. She wondered if he didn't regret coming here.

Or maybe the regret was all about what happened last night. 'It was a good thing', he said. A good thing until they had ruined it?

She didn't know; she couldn't say.

Only two weeks later she herself was on a plane, jetting back to America to begin her studies again. She met her friends once more, and everything started up; her life seemed back in motion again. Though, with one particular, distinct flavour missing. And she could tell what that was.

They saw each other again in a secluded section of the library, far away from prying eyes. "I hope the rest of the summer wasn't too awful," she said sincerely. She had been worrying about him and his siblings. Him being alone, like she was.

He smiled slightly. "It was like living in a graveyard, in comparison."

She nodded. "Hmm, yes. Tokyo is a very active place."

The silence stretched between them. "Sakura," he started, "I know…well…what happened…" He sighed and tried again. "Staying with you was so strange; in a good way, I mean. I don't quite know what to make of it. It was so, so different to everything I'm used to, and I…" He trailed off and looked away. "I think I just…need some time…"

She understood. Her heart was aching suddenly in her chest, but she understood. "Yes, I understand," she said, "I don't mind. Take all the time in the world; I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll find you, if you need me."

_I won't push you_, she thought as he smiled gratefully. _I won't hold you down_, she thought as he walked away. _Maybe if you fly away now, one day you'll return._

She held out this hope as they lived their separate lives; as a year passed and they went separate ways. She excelled in her studies, went out with her friends, attained a new passion for watercolour painting. He saw other girls, got famously drunk at parties, published a piece that won him critical notice.

She loved him quietly, held him softly in her heart. They passed each other occasionally, and she would smile and ask him no questions. Just smile.

He was on her mind as she hugged her friends goodbye, after they'd graduated and they were returning home. She thought of him as she boarded another plane, bound back to the bright lights of Tokyo, where she'd fallen in love with him.

She remembered him in the sights and sounds of the city, in the feeling of walking the street or entering a building. Sometimes when she lay on her bed she was convinced she could smell the scent of his hair on her pillows; and one day she visited the park where she had played as a child, and the grass she had thought of when she first saw his bright green eyes.

And one morning when she opened her door to the buzz of the doorbell, he appeared before her eyes like an apparition called up from the past.

"Thank God you still live here," he said, forgoing any form of greeting, wringing his scarf nervously between his hands. "I thought that you might've moved away, it's been so long…"

She stared at him, drank him in; he seemed tired and careworn, with dark rings around his eyes. "You came back," she said softly.

He shook his head. "I came home," he murmured. He moved forward, hesitantly, and reached out, laying a soft hand on her cheek. "I…couldn't keep away."

"You didn't have to come all this way." She leant into the touch of his hand. "I told you I'd come looking for you."

He laughed softly and shook his head. "No, I wanted to come _home_. I've never felt more comfortable anywhere than here, in this city, with you." He brushed her cheek with his thumb. "I've never known any girl like you."

She didn't want words, though his words were beautiful. She took one step and leant upwards, gripping the lapels of his worn winter coat, disregarding her bare feet on the cold concrete to kiss him slowly, welcomingly. His arms went around her waist, and he held her close until she broke the kiss and pulled him inside.

And he stayed, and she knew he would stay. She had waited for him, while he had fluttered back and forth; and the wind had blown him back to her at last.


End file.
